


most of my sins were born in a kiss on a night like this

by celeste9



Category: Star Wars - All Media Types, Star Wars Sequel Trilogy
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Angst, Arguing, Family Dynamics, First Kiss, First Order Poe Dameron, Flying, Inappropriate Use of the Force, M/M, Resistance Member Ben Solo, Role Reversal, Sexual Tension, Space Battles
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-04-21
Updated: 2018-04-21
Packaged: 2019-04-22 18:48:05
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 8,261
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14314899
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/celeste9/pseuds/celeste9
Summary: When Resistance pilot Ben Solo shoots down Poe Dameron, the First Order's finest, he goes against orders to retrieve him and bring him back as a prisoner for the Resistance. Ben feels a strange draw to Poe that he can't deny, in spite of all that he's done and how truly, truly aggravating he is.Nothing goes to plan.





	most of my sins were born in a kiss on a night like this

**Author's Note:**

  * For [ChromiumHeart](https://archiveofourown.org/users/ChromiumHeart/gifts).



> Title from Brian Fallon. Contains reference to past character death (characters involved are in the end note).

Ben didn’t even need to see the elegant lines of the customized TIE to know that the pilot wreaking havoc on the Resistance fleet was Poe Dameron, best fighter pilot in the First Order. If Ben wasn’t so pissed off he would be impressed by Dameron’s smooth, effortless flying.

But Ben wasn’t impressed; he was angry.

“Squads, fall back,” he said into his comm. “Leave Dameron to me.”

“Understood, Commander,” Jessika Pava said, veering off. “Good luck.”

Luck. All Ben needed was his own skill.

He kept his sights on the Silencer as his pilots all peeled around to take on the rest of the TIEs. Dameron was toying with him, looping up and around, turning sharply as if in an attempt to get the drop on Ben only to change direction again. He was playing a game, showing off, acting like a tooka with a rodent.

Ben wasn’t going to be so easily led about. He could match Dameron loop for loop, and he was going to prove it.

It was the most exhilarating bit of flying Ben could remember in years. He could feel the sweat drip down his neck but he felt alive, chasing Dameron through the stars, getting one quick shot off, then two, only for Dameron to evade him and spin round. Dameron clipped the side of his cockpit with an energy burst and Ben cursed, BB-9E quickly assessing the structural damage.

Maybe that was enough of Jess Pava’s luck, though, because Dameron got cocky, perhaps wrongly assuming Ben’s ship was more damaged than it was. He came in too close and Ben fired, hitting the Silencer straight on.

The ship spun, free falling to the planet below.

“Dameron’s going down,” Ben said to an ear-splitting bit of cheering in his headset.

“I saw the shot!” Pava crowed. 

“Good work,” Ben’s mother’s voice rang out. “All fighters return to base. We’re done here.”

“No!” Ben exclaimed. “If Dameron ejects, he’ll just be recovered by the First Order and we’ll be back where we started. Let me go down there. If he isn’t dead, I’ll kill him or take him in. This is too good an opportunity to pass up.”  

“It’s a needless risk. You have your orders, Commander Solo.”

“General! I only need--”

“Don’t make me repeat myself, Ben Solo.”

Ben gritted his teeth, forcing back his retort. “You heard the general. All pilots check in,” he said, and listened to a chorus of status reports before the ships blinked into hyperspace, one by one. 

Then Ben shut off his comm frequency, already imagining the lecture he was going to get from his mother when he arrived back to base.

It would be worth it if he brought Poe Dameron with him.

“Just you and me, Niney,” Ben muttered, and set a course for the planet surface.

He flew low, scanning for the wreckage of the Silencer and for lifeforms. It was a largely unpopulated planet, as far as Ben could tell, just a few scattered villages. BB-9E found the crash site first, burbling rapidly in binary. Ben turned his head and watched the smoke trail.

“We’ll set down here,” Ben said, as the terrain was flat and open enough, and if Dameron had managed to eject, he couldn’t be that far. In any case, Ben wanted to check the wreckage first.

No use looking any further if he found a body.

He instructed BB-9E to stay with the ship and after a moment’s hesitation, grabbed his medkit. He reasoned that Dameron was of more use alive than dead and didn’t allow himself to dwell on it more than that. 

He strode off towards what remained of the sleek Silencer. It was almost a shame, honestly - it was a beautiful ship. Ben wouldn’t have minded taking a spin in the cockpit himself. Dark smoke curled upwards into the cloudy sky, disappearing into the gray gloom. It was a miserable planet; Ben hoped not to prolong his stay.

He found no body and the ship was too damaged to identify if the pilot had ejected. Ben assumed he had; even if Dameron had perished in the crash, Ben thought he would have found some evidence. Unlikely the body would have been utterly consumed in the flames this quickly. He took out his datapad to run some scans and set off walking.

His path led him to the northeast, where he located the ejector seat. It was in bad shape; Ben wondered if Dameron had ejected late. Ben drew his blaster as he investigated, noticing a few spots of blood and what appeared to be the imprints of someone half-crawling, half-dragging themselves away. It would appear that Dameron was alive, but hurt.

The blaster bolt whizzed by so close to his ear Ben could feel the heat of it as it went by. He swore and scrambled for cover, ducking behind a scraggly bush. The next blast missed him by more and Ben made a quick assessment before firing off two warning shots and running for his assailant.

Dameron was crouched beside a rock, back braced against it, out of it enough that Ben disarmed him with minimal fuss. He struggled but Ben wrenched an arm behind his back and shoved him down into the dirt, kneeling and leaning his weight onto him.

“Fuck,” Dameron swore, wincing.

Ben kept him pinned down while he dug in the pouch attached to his flight vest for the small hunk of paracord he kept there. He undid the casing with his teeth and separated it into strands, using a couple of the thin, strong cords to bind Dameron’s wrists.

Satisfied, Ben sat back, activating his emergency beacon and keeping his blaster in his hand as he looked Dameron over.

The man looked awful. There was matted blood in his hair from a head wound and the way he was hunched over made Ben suspect he’d broken a rib or two, and probably an ankle, judging by the weird angle of his foot.

And yet.

Ben had never seen Poe Dameron face-to-face before. He had never come closer than seeing him in flight, the walls of their ships between them. Ben had, however, seen the recruitment vids and posters. Propaganda went down better when served with a pretty face.

Poe Dameron, pride of the First Order, with a face that wouldn’t have looked out of place in a holodrama. Even bloody and beaten and dirty, he was a handsome man.

Not Ben’s type, of course. Bad politics. But he could appreciate good genetics.

“Suppose it’s you I have to thank for this, Ben Solo,” Dameron said, face spasming in pain as he shifted himself into more of a seated position. His dark eyes flickered over Ben, clearly noting the two blasters - Ben’s and his own - and likely assessing exactly how fucked he was. His gaze was faintly unfocused and Ben wondered if he might be concussed.

“You know me?”

Dameron chuckled. “We get news reports in the First Order, too. Everyone knows you. You’re a famous guy. Famous family.”

Ben’s lips pursed. His family. Of course.

“That was you, wasn’t it? The indignity of getting shot down by some no-name rebel would be a little too much to take.”

“Of course it was me,” Ben said, slightly peeved that Dameron could know his name but not his flying.

Dameron’s lips curved into a smile that absolutely didn’t make him still more attractive. “Thank kriff. Better for my ego, you know, son of Han Solo, nephew of Luke Skywalker and all.”

His family again. As if none of Ben’s skill was from himself.

“You’re the only one who’s ever been able to keep up with me. At least you keep things interesting.”

That was a little better. “I’m sure you’ll find things very interesting in one of our cells.” 

“Yeah, somehow I doubt that. If I make a break for it, will you shoot me?”

“I don’t advise trying it. You wouldn’t even be able to get to your feet before I stopped you.”

“The First Order will come looking for me. I’m valuable.”

Ben narrowed his eyes. “You think so? I’m pretty sure the First Order will consider you a regrettable but acceptable loss and move on. You don’t even have high enough security clearance to tell us anything useful enough that they’d want to silence you.”

Dameron’s expression contorted into something Ben couldn’t quite decipher before he smoothed it out. “What do you want with me, then? If I’m not useful.”

“Oh, I didn’t say you aren’t at all useful.”

“So it’s not for my pretty face?”

Ben flushed, and Dameron laughed.

“That’s okay,” he said. “I think you’re pretty, too, Ben Solo, even if orange really isn’t your color.”

Ben felt the heat rise in his cheeks and kept his grip on his blaster as he fumbled with the medkit. “Here,” he said, and took great pleasure in the pained hiss that escaped past Dameron’s lips as he not particularly gently started cleaning the nasty head wound Dameron had suffered.

Ben hoped his mother sent a transport to retrieve him sooner rather than later.

-

“Ben Organa Solo, don’t think you’re too old to be taken over my knee. What were you thinking?”

“With respect, General,” Ben said, making himself stand tall and straight, “letting him go would have been a mistake.”

His mother arched an eyebrow. “Would it?”

“He’s their best pilot! We’ve never captured one of them before, and Dameron… We can use him to bargain with, or we can get information from him, and if nothing else at least this way we know he’s not just running back to them where he can keep killing our pilots.”

“It was dangerous and reckless and you flagrantly disobeyed my orders.”

“Yes, but maybe we could even turn him--”

“Oh, Ben,” his mother said, not needing to say even one more word in order to convey exactly how naïve she thought he was being. “Don’t be taken in by a handsome face. He’s just as bad as the rest of the First Order. The number of lifeforms he’s killed…”

Heat was coursing through Ben’s skin again, the flush building up from his neck. He didn’t care what Dameron looked like; this had nothing to do with that. Why couldn’t his mother see that this was a good thing? The First Order’s greatest fighter pilot, in binders in a Resistance infirmary! It was a win.

“I did what I thought was right,” Ben said.

His mother sighed. “You may be my son but you are still my soldier. You will do as I command or I’ll toss you off this base myself.”

“Yes, General,” Ben said, and walked out.

He ran into his father on his way out, who needed only one look at Ben’s face for his expression to morph into sympathetic commiseration. “Take it easy, kid,” he said and squeezed Ben’s shoulder as he passed.

No one else approached Ben as he strode through the base. His mother was wrong; Ben had made the right choice. She just wouldn’t admit she had made a mistake. She never did.

He wasn’t sure he had meant to but he ended up in the infirmary, looking at Dameron’s unconscious form, strapped in binders to his bed and under guard. They had set his ankle and tended to his injuries, even allowing bacta patches to be applied to his broken ribs. It was better care than the First Order would give to an injured prisoner, Ben was certain.

In the bed Dameron looked small, like his skill in the air and big personality made him seem larger than he actually was. Now he was just a man, short and compact, entirely under their control.

“How mad is the general?” Jess Pava asked from behind Ben’s shoulder.

He turned his head to glance at her. “How mad do you think?”

“Ouch. Sorry.”

“She’ll get over it.”

Jess made a dismissive sort of sound. “Well, he’s hot, anyway. The posters don’t do him justice.”

“I hadn’t noticed.”

Jess’s mouth stretched into a smirk as she left him alone. “Sure, Commander.”

Ben forcibly tamped down on the blush threatening. His gaze lingered on Dameron lying still, the waves of his dark hair. Why did everyone think… It had nothing to do with that. Okay, maybe Ben had noticed, but getting him here was still the right decision, regardless of what he looked like.

Dameron could be a tool, or an asset, and he was certainly better here than in a First Order ship. Ben knew his mother would see that in time.

-

After a few days, Dameron was moved from the infirmary into a holding cell, though it was more a room than a cell. There was a cot in the corner and a small table with two chairs. When Ben walked into it, Dameron was sprawled on his back on the cot. His hands were still bound but he was otherwise free to move about the room as he wished.

“Oh, look, Ben Solo’s come to brighten up my captivity,” Dameron said as Ben came in. He shifted upright, moving somewhat stiffly and gingerly as, Ben suspected, his ribs weren’t completely healed yet.

“Comfortable?” Ben asked.

Dameron tilted his head in a ‘meh’ gesture. “I have to say, the service isn’t bad. I get regular meals, even showers. I could do without the audience but my watchers don’t seem to mind.”

Ben was absolutely not imagining what Dameron might look like underneath his borrowed clothing. “You might repay us by actually answering some of our questions. The consensus seems to be that you talk a lot and say nothing important.”

Chuckling, Dameron said, “Did you think I was going to make it easy for you? Spill everything I know because you used some bacta to fix my ankle? You’ll have to rethink your technique. You guys might want to invest in an interrogation droid or two, or at least get someone on your side who’s more convincing. You’re not going to get anything out of me with this lame questioning.”

“Maybe I’ll take what I want straight out of your head,” Ben said, moving across the room to trail his fingertips down the side of Dameron’s face. “Did you know I could?”

Dameron was arching an eyebrow. “What I heard is that you locked away your lightsaber and cut yourself off from the Force because you were too scared of what you could do, because your whole family was scared of what you could do. So now you’ve got all that power and do nothing with it because you’re afraid.”

Ben slapped Dameron across the face, enough force behind it to snap his head to the side.

Dameron touched his split lip, bitten through. “What, did I hit a nerve?”

Ben turned abruptly and walked out of the cell, as Dameron laughed softly behind him. 

-

Ben was tired and sweaty when his mother called him into her office. He had only just returned from retrieving a fuel shipment and he was eager for a shower. If Ben had learned anything from a lifetime of being his mother’s son, however, it was to not keep her waiting.

“Dameron continues to talk at length about nothing that matters,” she said to him after a brusque status report. “Yesterday he gave an extended lecture on the positives and negatives of the T-70 X-wing as compared to the TIE/fo space superiority fighter.”

“Conclusions?” Ben asked, helplessly intrigued.

The general rolled her eyes. “Ask Dameron yourself. I’m handing him over to you.”

“You’re what?”

“Dameron’s been nothing but a waste of resources. He was your great idea so now he’s your problem, Commander. Make him useful.”

Ben stared at her. He wasn’t in intelligence; he was a pilot. He was terrible at, well, people. What was he supposed to...  “But--”

“Get something out of him, Ben,” his mother said firmly.

Sighing, Ben said, “Yes, General.”

-

“They don’t even have hyperdrives! Their use is inherently limited to--”

“But buddy, you’ve never sat in the cockpit,” Dameron said, voice smooth as silk. “The way she moves? Nothing like her.”

“The maneuverability of a T-70 is unmatched,” Ben insisted, though that wasn’t precisely true; he’d had the pleasure of flying a T-85. No need, though, to remind Dameron that the Resistance couldn’t afford the most advanced model starfighters.

“I’m not saying they aren’t fine ships, but seriously, don’t knock a TIE until you’ve tried it. That burst of speed is like nothing you’ve ever felt.”

“I don’t know about that. I’ve been in an A-wing.”

“Nice ships,” Dameron allowed. “Quick. Precise. Easy to take out, once you’ve squared in on it.”

“What, like a TIE, you mean? At least they’re treated as more than simple cannon fodder now. You’ve even got deflector shields.”

Dameron laughed. “Yeah, okay. I’m not gonna speak to past attitudes of the original designers.”

Ben watched Dameron’s face and had the uncomfortable realization that he had forgotten for a moment that Dameron was his prisoner and Ben was supposed to be interrogating him. The man talked a lot about nothing that mattered, that was absolutely confirmed.

He was annoying, aggravating, and insufferable, but his genuine enthusiasm for flying and starships rivaled Ben’s own. It was truly a shame that... 

“Why the First Order?” Ben asked.

Dameron’s smile spread slowly. He leaned his elbows on the table where they were sitting, pushing himself just slightly forward, closer to Ben. “Oh, so we’re back to questioning now?”

“Just making conversation.”

“Uh huh. Well, you tell me, then. Why the Resistance?”

Ben frowned. “That’s not how it works.”

“Isn’t it? Thought we were just making conversation. You give a little, you get a little. Yeah?”

Annoying, aggravating, and insufferable. At least he was pleasant to look at. “My mother runs it.”

Dameron made a disbelieving little snort. “Come on. You’ve got a brain of your own.”

“The First Order is a threat. We’re at war and I chose a side.” 

“A threat, huh?”

“Yes, a threat! To the freedom of every living being in the galaxy! And if you don’t see that, you’re an idiot.”

Ben’s ears were pinking; he felt hot and angry and embarrassed all at once. How could he let this snide prisoner get under his skin so easily?

“An idiot, well, maybe,” Dameron said, shrugging. “But at least I’m not naïve. The New Republic can’t even hold itself together in the halls of the Senate, let alone the entire galaxy.”

Ben wouldn’t argue that; his mother was no longer a senator for a good reason. “The First Order is no solution.”

“But you don’t even have a solution. You attack and defend; you wage war. You have no answer.”

“When the Senate listens to us--”

“Kriff, how old are you? You think like a child. You can’t have it both ways; you can’t separate yourself from the New Republic and then expect them to fix your problems. Either you’re with them or you aren’t, and it looks to me like you aren’t.”

The Senate wouldn’t even admit they were at war. Ben kept thinking it would change; he kept thinking… Surely the growing evidence would change their minds. But the Senate was corrupted with First Order sympathizers and those too in love with their own self-importance to see that this peace wasn’t a peace at all.

That Dameron had a point rankled. He shouldn’t know anything.

And all he had done was antagonize; he had answered no questions.

Ben shoved his chair back and left without a word.

-

“How’s the prisoner?” Jess asked as she slid her tray across the table from Ben in the mess hall and sat down.

“Still useless,” Ben said, poking at whatever unidentifiable protein they had put in the stew. He hoped they got in new supplies soon; his father was supposed to be back from a smuggling run any day now.

“Can’t be all bad; you’re spending a hell of a lot of free time in his cell.”

“The general expects results.”

Jess made a small humming sound. “Sure, I get it. And he’s totally not your type.”

“He’s a First Order pilot!”

“Yeah, I know. Total dick. I’m tempted to kick him in the balls every time I see him. Doesn’t mean he isn’t easy on the eyes, and I’ve known you a long time, Ben Solo.”

Ben pretended to be really into his stew. “I don’t date. And he isn’t my type.”

“His ass is everybody’s type.”

Ben nearly choked on the kriffing mystery protein and coughed, gulping down blue milk once he could breathe again.

Jess’ smile was particularly sly. “I know you’re not gonna bang him, Commander. But you can stop pretending you haven’t thought about it.”

“Kriff,” Ben said, and wondered how he had gotten friends like Jessika Pava.

-

Dameron continued to thwart Ben’s attempts to wring information from him. Ben just wasn’t good at this, honestly, and he wasn’t trained for it, and he didn’t understand how he was expected to crack Dameron when no one else could.

It was a point of pride now, though, and he was determined to get something.

Maybe he would even be able to show Dameron that the First Order didn’t deserve his skills or his loyalty.

He showed Dameron news reports and holovids, to which Dameron only said, “Do you think I’m stupid? We got news in the First Order, too, and I know it was biased. I know they showed us only what they wanted us to see. But I know that your reports aren’t entirely the truth, either. Do you think the New Republic wants you to see their failures?”

“My mother,” Ben said, “is General Leia Organa. My mind is pretty clear about what politicians do, and about inherent biases in journalism.”

“Oh, yes, the general. Do you know she hasn’t graced me with her presence since I first got here? Pretty sure she doesn’t like me.”

“Wonder why.”

Dameron’s grin was shit-eating. “Think you like me, though. You’re my most frequent visitor.”

“These aren’t courtesy visits.”

“But they’re so enjoyable. I think we’re bonding.”

“If by bonding you mean me wanting to smash your nose into the table.”

“You could slap me again; you seemed to enjoy that. I kind of did.”

Heat was rising up Ben’s neck. No, Jess, he had absolutely not thought about banging Dameron, and he was absolutely not thinking about it now.

“Why did you join the First Order?” Ben asked.

“Ah, come on,” Dameron groaned. “Again?”

“You never answered.”

“You know what? Fine. Here’s a little something about me. I didn’t join the First Order, Ben Solo. I was brought in.”

Frowning, Ben said, “Brought in?” Like a stormtrooper? Ben had heard the stories; they weren’t pleasant.

“Dead parents, that whole sob story. The First Order gave me a place to sleep and a role to fill.”

“People to kill?”

“Sure, why not? It’s not like you’re not doing the exact same thing here.”

“It isn’t the same,” Ben said, jaw clenching.

Fuck, he hated Dameron’s stupid, irritating, smug face, like he knew something Ben didn’t. “Yeah, you keep telling yourself that.”

“The First Order subjugates innocent--”

“And what exactly is it you think the New Republic is doing?”

“The New Republic gives a choice! Planets may join if they wish and be represented, so everyone has a voice!”

“And that’s working so well? You even admitted the system is garbage.”

“The system is flawed; it isn’t garbage. At least the Republic doesn’t use up planets and spit them out again when they’re no longer useful.”

Dameron’s face looked strange, some mix of sad and amused. “Doesn’t it?”

Ben clenched his fist and stood. “No, it doesn’t. I’ll be back tomorrow.”

“Can’t wait,” Dameron said, as the door slid closed behind Ben.

Completely infuriating. This was impossible.

Maybe his mother had been right. Ben should have left Dameron to rot on that planet.

The most annoying part was that Ben knew he never would have, and if he could do it over again, he would still do it all the same.

-

“What’s this planet called?” Dameron asked as they walked outside, drawing the attention of everyone they passed. Dameron’s wrists were still in binders but he walked like he didn’t have a care at all.

“Nice try.”

“Hey, can’t blame me.” His eyes were on the sky, the thick foliage from the trees surrounding the base. “I like it. Feels like… I dunno. Familiar somehow. Like I’ve been here, or maybe it just reminds me of somewhere. Silly, I guess.”

“It’s like any planet with a jungle, I expect,” Ben said. His blaster felt like an unusually heavy weight.

“Well, aren’t you just a ray of sunshine. I bet you’re a blast at parties.”

“Have a lot of parties in the First Order?”

Dameron smiled sideways at him. “Nah, but there’s a pretty good bar on the  _ Finalizer _ , in the rec area. For the officers. I enjoy a good indulgence as much as the next guy.”

Ben felt himself flushing again. Kriffing hell. 

“You look like a guy who could use a good indulgence. Maybe not as much as Hux could, to be fair, but pretty close.”

“You’re about to lose this indulgence,” Ben said, gritting it out between his teeth. “I’m regretting it already.”

“Aw, hey, I thought we were having a nice time.” Dameron was still smiling. 

“Nice enough you’ll want to tell me more about Hux?”

“I can tell you he’s a skinny, pasty ginger with a stick up his ass. Honestly that’s about all you need to know.”

Ben laughed without meaning to.

Dameron’s smile widened. “See? We are bonding.”

Ben looked away from him, suddenly uncomfortably realizing that maybe they were. He reminded himself that Dameron had killed Ben’s friends, shot them out of the sky. He reminded himself that Dameron was aiding the First Order in their subjugation and control of the galaxy.

But he couldn’t help but think that Dameron would be someone he’d like to have on his side. 

_ In your bed, you mean,  _ a terrible, terrible voice that sounded like Jessika Pava said in Ben’s head.

He squashed it.

-

“Having pleasant conversations while walking the grounds isn’t exactly what I had in mind when I put Dameron in your care,” Ben’s mother said, her attention seemingly on her datapad as they sat together in her office.

Ben knew better. Her genuine focus was on him. “Pleasant is an overstatement.”

“Is it? You seem very taken in by his handsome face and charming personality.”

“He’s cocky and overly sure of himself, not to mention incredibly annoying.”

His mother raised her eyes to him, straightening just slightly in her chair. “Ben. Don’t pretend I’m not your mother. You look at him like you used to look at--”

“I know who he is!” Ben interrupted, too horrified to even let her finish. “I’m just trying… I don’t think he’s really that bad, in his heart. I think I can get him to listen.”

She sighed. “At this point I’d be grateful for the smallest scrap of intel, let alone the hope of turning their best fighter pilot. Ackbar would like me to make inquiries into the possibility of trading him in or else turn him over to the New Republic and I think he might be right. He’s given us nothing.”

“Don’t do that!” Ben was almost surprised by how vehemently he didn’t want his mother to give up on making Dameron talk. Ben would figure it out, he wouldn’t fail, and Dameron could stay here. At least a while longer.

He didn’t let himself think about why exactly he didn’t want Dameron to leave.

The general scrutinized him, hands folded in front of her. “I can only buy you so much time.”

“I can do it!” Ben stood up so quickly he almost knocked his chair over. “General, I can do it. Please. Give me more time.”

She nodded sharply. “I’ll see what I can do.”

Ben ran out, not bothering to excuse himself. He went straight for Dameron’s cell. He had no idea what he was doing but he couldn’t fight the urge that he had to do something, something to make his mother keep Dameron here, to not send him away.

He still wasn’t letting himself think about why he didn’t want to let his mother send away this asshole.

Dameron was on his back on the cot, legs up. He didn’t even need the protective boot for his ankle anymore, and his feet were bare. He tilted his side to the side at the sound of the door, watching Ben come in. He didn’t sit up.

“What can I do for you?” he asked, tone edged with sarcasm.

Ben walked over, sitting down beside Dameron’s knees. Dameron’s eyes widened but he didn’t make an effort to move.

“You’ve got a pretty good deal here,” Ben said. “You even said so yourself.”

“Sure,” Dameron said, faintly suspicious, like he was waiting to see where Ben was going with this.

“So I’m guessing you’d rather stay than take your chances somewhere else.”

“I’d miss your company.”

Ben couldn’t tell if that was entirely joking or only partially. “Your lack of usefulness means that you’re outstaying your welcome.”

“Oh. I get it. This is a last-ditch bid to make me spill my guts, huh? Well, sorry, Ben Solo, but I’m not going to give up the First Order just for a few more looks at your pretty face.”

“You don’t owe them your loyalty! You think they give a damn about you? You think they actually care if you’re alive or dead?”

“No, probably not.”

“Then why?” Ben exclaimed. “Why protect them?”

“Because they’re mine!” Poe said, jerking upright, nearly startling Ben off the cot. “Loyalty still means something to me, regardless of whether you think it’s owed or not. They gave me a home and a purpose when no one else did and I trust them a damn sight farther than I trust your New Republic.”

“They will burn this galaxy to the ground!”

“Only to fight you! They don’t want destruction, they want order; it’s in the fucking name!”

“At the cost of our freedom.”

“Is freedom what you call neglect and lack of oversight? Life in the New Republic looks pretty great when you’re wealthy and living in the Core, but let me tell you, it’s a lot uglier everywhere else.”

Dameron was so damn arrogant, talking like Ben was a stupid kid who didn’t know how life worked. “You think I haven’t seen how beings struggle? I know I was lucky and spoiled and entitled, but I’ve seen how hard it is for others. And I’ve also seen what happens when the First Order doesn’t get what it wants, or when a village has used up its resources. The idea that all they’re doing is bringing order is a fucking joke.”

“Like a Jedi who’s too afraid to hold a lightsaber? Because that’s pretty fucking funny, too, if you ask me.”

The anger had been building since Ben entered the room; it was easy to let it overwhelm him.

That was the entire problem.

Ben outstretched his hand, fingertips grazing Dameron’s temple. “I can show you what a Jedi does,” he said, and reached in.

He didn’t know what he was looking for and Dameron’s mind was cluttered and tumultuous. Ben felt as though he was drowning, surrounded by light and noise and so much life and memory and emotion that he could make nothing out. He held steady and tried to focus, like his uncle had taught him years ago, before Ben had put away his training forever.

The images came like flashes, searing out of Dameron’s skull and into Ben’s. Flying, mission debriefings, flirting with an officer at the bar, jerking conscious and realizing his TIE was spinning out of control, standing at parade rest while a stern-looking officer walked down the line.

Nothing was useful and Dameron was fighting him, building walls that collapsed as soon as Ben made contact with them. He still didn’t know what he was doing, what he hoped to find, but surely if he just kept digging he would - 

He stumbled into a mental door. Ben pushed and Dameron resisted. Ben pushed harder; Dameron was screaming, in his head and perhaps aloud too, and Ben kept pushing.

A young man and woman, dark-haired, smiling, with a little curly-haired boy. They were so happy, love seeping out so that Ben could almost tangibly feel it himself. Then... No, that wasn’t right. That was Ben’s mother, and his father, and his uncle, but it wasn’t possible. Ben knew this was a memory, buried deep, from Dameron’s childhood. His parents, his family. Ben’s family couldn’t be here; it was ridiculous, impossible. 

Then the boy, bigger and older now, was screaming; it was a mob, or something like it. The memory was hazy; Ben could barely make it out. Rioting in the streets, the happy family caught in the middle of it.

It was clearer when the boy knelt by the bodies of his parents and cried as he pulled at them, begging them to  _ get up, get up, get up! _ They didn’t, and the boy kept crying, until white uniformed troopers took him away.

Ben slid back out of Dameron’s head, dropping his shaking hand. He blinked at Dameron, trying to recover his own sense of self, leaving behind the wracking sorrow and fear that wasn’t even his own but which he could feel as though it were.

Dameron was crying but Ben didn’t think he even realized it, tears helplessly rolling down his cheeks.

“You didn’t remember,” Ben realized as he said the words. “I’m sorry, I--”

“Is that what you wanted?” Dameron spat out. “Did you get what you came for? Have you proven yourself now?”

“I’m sorry,” Ben said again, so ashamed. “But your parents… The First Order…”

“The First Order saved me when no one else would! Do you know how many lost children slip through the cracks of your precious New Republic? All those lives that no one gives a damn about! Planets where crimelords rule, where beings struggle in the dirt to feed themselves, where orphans live in gutters. Tell me what your Republic does for them!”

_ The First Order killed your parents,  _ Ben thought but didn’t dare to say.  _ They may not have pulled the trigger but they killed them all the same, and took you from the wreckage because you might be useful. A lost orphan for their war machine. _

But Dameron didn’t want to see that. He was a fool if he thought the First Order had ever given a damn about him, like giving him a place had been an act of altruism. Ben wanted to shout at him, wanted to shake him, but he thought maybe he had done enough, and he was afraid… He couldn’t allow himself to...

“We do what we can,” Ben said, and got up from the cot. Dameron’s eyes followed him, red and bloodshot and filled with fierce, defensive anger.

Ben turned his back and went out into the corridor. He curled his hand into a fist, nails biting into his palm, and took deep, even breaths, remembering himself, fighting for calm, discarding the rage.

He couldn’t believe he had done it. He had let Dameron provoke him and he had - 

He walked blindly, lost in his head, but he wasn’t actually surprised when he realized where his feet had taken him.

His father was in the  _ Falcon,  _ up to his elbows in wiring. Ben watched, and his father turned.

“Ben, hey, do you--” He must not have liked what he saw on Ben’s face because he immediately stopped what he was doing, disentangling himself from the mess and saying, “Sit down. I’ve got a bottle of something somewhere.”

Ben sat by the dejarik board. His father returned momentarily, carrying a dusty bottle of what might have been brandy. He took a swig when his father offered, no glasses. It burned down his throat and he passed it back to his dad.

“Something on your mind, kid?” his father asked, so careful, so uncertain. He never knew how to talk to Ben and Ben never knew how to talk to him; somehow they managed.

“I did something bad,” he said.

“Is it all right now?”

“Dunno. Maybe. Yeah, I guess.”

“Is anyone hurt?”

Ben gnawed at his lip. “Not… not like that. Physically.”  _ I made him cry, fuck. _

His father watched him steadily. “This about Dameron?”

“I… I pushed. I went in his head.” Ben looked at his knees because he didn’t want to face the way his father must be looking at him, the shame, the recrimination, the disappointment. “I thought I could find what Mom wanted me to, because he wouldn’t talk.”

“Did you?”

Ben shook his head. “All I found was… bad things. Memories he had buried.” Or that the First Order had buried.

“Hey,” his dad said, touching Ben’s knee. “You did good, kid. You stopped yourself, and you came here. You made a mistake but you know it was a mistake.”

Exhaling a shaky breath, Ben made himself look at his father’s face, filled only with concern. “If I tried again, maybe I could find something useful.”

“Pretty sure that’s not the way your mother wants you to do it.”

“Yeah. I know.”

His father gave him the brandy again, and Ben took another gulp. They sat quietly.

“I saw something else,” Ben ventured. “His parents with you and Mom and Uncle Luke.”

His father’s eyes widened, lips parting. “Yeah. Well, about that. The Damerons, they… The kid’s parents fought in the Rebellion. For the Rebellion.” 

Ben let that sink in. Poe Dameron’s parents had been heroes, freedom fighters. Rebels. And now Dameron himself fought for the First Order. “He said… he said no one wanted him. He said the First Order took him because no one would. But that’s not true, is it?”

“I don’t know what you’re asking.”

“I saw you,” Ben said. “He was small.”

His father sighed heavily. “His parents had gone to a mining colony in response to a distress call. At the time, the First Order meant nothing to us; we didn’t know it existed. We didn’t even know the name. But Dameron’s parents went to help because that’s what they did. They died. We heard it was an explosion.”

“That isn’t true. That’s not what I saw.”

“Yeah, well, it was probably a cover-up. We know that now, don’t we?”

“So you left him. You admit it.”

“It’s not like that, Ben.”

“Then tell me what it’s like! Because to me it looks like you and Mom abandoned a kid to the First Order, and now you want to treat him like the bad guy in the story when it’s your fault he’s like this!”

His father gazed at Ben, hurt in his eyes, and Ben stood up. He wouldn’t take it back.

“Maybe you should ask your mother,” his dad said, and Ben made a choked noise in his throat.

“Ask my mother,” he said. “Sure, I’ll ask my mother. It’s your answer to everything.”

He strode out of the  _ Falcon.  _ He wasn’t even sure now if he was angry at his parents, or at Dameron, or at the First Order, or even at himself. Maybe he had enough anger to go around.

Ben found his mother in the command center, in the middle of a conversation with Kaydel Ko Connix, who excused herself as Ben stormed over.

“Is it true? Did you know Poe?”

His mother’s eyes narrowed and Ben realized what he had said; it was too late now. Poe.

“It depends on what you consider knowing someone, I suppose,” she said.

“Give me a straight answer, Mom.”

She looked at him, nodding sharply. “Let’s go into my office. I’d rather not do this here.”

Ben allowed himself to be led off, feeling the eyes of everyone on the back of his neck.

Inside the small office, his mother sat. Ben didn’t.

“You’ll have been talking to your father, I assume?” she began. “Yes, we knew the Damerons. Shara and Kes were good people. We met the boy a few times when he was young. It was a tragedy, what happened.”

“And you just let the First Order have him?”

“It isn’t that simple. He was gone; we assumed he died with his parents. We didn’t know. We never heard of him again until we tangled with him a few too many times through the Resistance. By then, well… What could we have done? He isn’t little Poe anymore.”

“That sounds like you making excuses.”

“Maybe I have,” his mother admitted. “But the facts remain. We thought he was dead.”

“Does he know?”

“You mean, does he know your father and me? I doubt he remembers. He was so young and the First Order goes to great lengths to ensure the loyalty of their soldiers.”

That fit with what Ben had experienced, delving into Poe’s mind. The mental block had been so difficult to push through. “And that makes it okay?”

“Of course not. You think we wouldn’t have taken him in if we’d realized? You think we wouldn’t have helped him? But it’s too late now, Ben, and there’s no undoing what’s been done.”

“No, there’s just jailing him, like he’s a criminal.”

“He is a criminal.”

“That you had a hand in creating! You knew him! He was good! And he’s… He’s not a bad person, Mom. He just thinks there’s nothing better out there than where he is.”

His mother rested her face in her hands. She looked weary like she rarely did. “I know you only want to help. I know your heart is in the right place. But that man in the cell, he isn’t the same boy I knew. He’s lived for years in the First Order, decades, practicing what they taught him. You can’t change that because you want to. Don’t be led in by--”

“By what? His face? Stop acting like I’m some naïve boy who can’t think past my dick! I’m the one who’s spent time with him! I know he can change! You have to let me--”

“I’m sorry,” she interrupted. “I can give you days. That’s all, and it won’t be enough.” 

The anger was building and building and Ben tried breathing deep again. “You owe him more than that.”

“I’m sorry,” she said once more, and Ben knew the discussion was over.

-

If Ben was honest, he didn’t want to face Poe again. Poe made him feel too much, anger and shame and regret and guilt, all mixed in with interest and attraction. There was too much, all the weight of what they were and what they had done to each other, and Ben didn’t know how to process it.

But his mother was giving him days, and Ben couldn’t waste them.

“Come to mess with my head again?” Poe said, upright on the end of his cot, back against the wall, hands bound in his lap. “Think I got it the first time. You’re a powerful Jedi who can do whatever the fuck he wants.”

“I’m actually not very good at it,” Ben admitted, stepping farther into the room. “I stopped my training early. I have more power than control.”

“I’m shocked.”

“Yeah.” Ben fidgeted a bit in place, gaze flickering over the walls, over Poe. “Don’t you think… I know you think you only have a place in the First Order, and I know you think they’re working to make things better. But don’t you think the galaxy would be better served if we weren’t fighting?”

“I don’t see you rolling over.”

“You aren’t either.”

“I might, in the right circumstances.” Poe bit his lip.

Ben flushed. Damn it.

Poe laughed. “You’re so easy to fluster. Are you a virgin, Ben Solo?”

“I’m obviously not going to tell you either way.”

“Oh, gonna let me find out for myself, huh?”

“That’s not what I--” Ben stopped and rubbed the back of his head. “Oh, fuck you.”

“Yeah, that works, too.” Poe kept grinning and Ben hated how much he liked seeing it. “Like I said, so easy to fluster.”

“Can you ever be serious?”

“It’s not as much fun.”

“Poe,” Ben said, moving another step closer, and then cursed himself for an idiot. He ignored the genuinely triumphant look on Poe’s face. “I’m sorry for what happened to you. I know you think I’m naïve but honestly, can you say you’re any better? You must be able to see how so many lifeforms are being hurt by the First Order, how you’re helping them do it.”

Poe looked away from him. “I don’t see a better way.”

“Maybe we could find one.”

“What, you and me? Yeah, that’d be something.”

Before he could think better of it, Ben walked all the way to Poe, bending down and unlocking his binders. Poe gazed into Ben’s eyes, astonished, finally speechless. “Consider it a sign of good faith. Trust, or something.”

Ben took the binders with him when he left and locked the door.

-

“Solo,” Jess said, with the air of someone who had been repeating the same word over and over, snapping her fingers in front of his face.

“What? Sorry.”

“Imagining your First Order boyfriend naked?”

Ben flushed.

She laughed. “Well, you were definitely thinking about him, then. I heard the general’s looking to move him.”

“Yes.”

“Ben,” Jess said, a bit more earnestly. “You know what he is.”

“That’s the problem, Pava,” Ben said, and got up. He didn’t know why he had the urge to see Poe; it was late. Maybe Poe was even asleep already. Ben should be asleep, frankly. 

Yet here Ben was, on his way to see Poe.

Poe’s cell was empty. Ben swore and started running.

He headed straight for the hangar. It would be empty at this time of night, the pilots and mechanics off-duty, most likely in their beds, the droids hooked up to their charging ports.

It was empty, aside from the slim figure of Poe Dameron, dressed in a stolen flight suit and perched on the side of an X-wing cockpit, checking the control panel.

He looked like one of his recruitment posters, posed there, but this time for the Resistance. Ben was filled with a strange yearning that it could be true, that Poe would stay and fly X-wings for them, but he knew it was only a fantasy.

Poe was running.

“So much for trust,” Ben said, getting Poe to look at him, appearing startled but not truly surprised.

His smile was rueful. “Did you honestly expect anything else?” He hopped down.

“Not really.”

“Always wanted to fly one of these,” Poe said, stroking his fingers along the side of the ship. “Not my Silencer, but you’re right. These newer model X-wings are fine ships.”

“If we’re having some honesty,” Ben said, “I’d really like to fly your Silencer.”

“I knew I liked you.” Poe walked closer to Ben. “Afraid she’s pretty well smashed, unfortunately.”

“I remember.”

“Are you going to stop me?”

“I should.”

“That doesn’t answer my question.”

Ben hesitated. He knew what his duty was. He knew that if Poe went back to the First Order, he would only continue fighting them.

But Ben wasn’t going to stop him, and he was pretty sure Poe knew it.

“I’ll give you a head-start before I reveal the location of your base,” Poe said.

“How thoughtful.”

“You know,” Poe said, stepping closer. “I could tell them a lot about you now. Far more than you’ve learned from me. Looks like your plan backfired.”

“Looks like.” Ben thought he should be more irritated. He didn’t know why he wasn’t.

Poe reached out, smoothing his hand through Ben’s hair. Ben was too startled even to flinch. “Think I’ll tell them I saw nothing. You kept me in the dark. I was lucky to escape; all I’ve got are the coordinates.”

Ben stared. “Why would you do that?”

“Maybe we did bond a little, Ben Solo,” Poe said, leaning in and leaning up, his breath warm on Ben’s face, before finally he pressed their lips together.

Poe’s hand curled around the back of Ben’s neck; Ben’s lips parted on a sigh. Poe kissed like he did everything else, firm and sure, like he expected to always get what he wanted, like he belonged wherever he was. Ben squeezed his hip and let it happen.

Poe was smiling when he stepped back, smug and self-satisfied. “See you around, Ben,” he said, and climbed up into the cockpit.

It wasn’t too late; Ben could still stop him. But he knew he wouldn’t.

Ben watched the X-wing until it blinked out into hyperspace and then turned away, preparing for just exactly how he was going to explain himself to his mother. She was going to be furious and Ben knew she had a right to be. The Resistance would know by now that something was wrong; a rogue X-wing on the monitors in the command center.

He brushed his fingertip against his lips and smiled a little. He wouldn’t be able to muster an ounce of contrition as he wasn’t sorry at all.

“See you around, Poe,” Ben said, and started walking.

**Author's Note:**

> Warning: reference to the death of Poe's parents.


End file.
